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A Matter of Fate

Page 33

by Heather Lyons


  “What kind of stupid question is that?”

  “How did it make you feel, seeing him in that alley, bleeding, on the verge of gods know what?”

  Like he doesn’t know. “What’s your point?”

  “My point,” he says, walking again, “is that you have to think of how people would feel if you were out there fighting, too. What if that’d been you out there? Would you have wanted to do that to him? Worry him like that?”

  “Concern about worrying me didn’t stop him, did it?”

  Kellan shakes his head. “For someone who has a Connection to him, you really don’t know Jonah at all, do you?”

  I relent and give into waking up Zthane first. It’s an easy process—all I do is lay a hand on his chest and order him to wake up. Which, of course, he doesn’t—I mean, his heart is beating, and he’s breathing, but considering he’d been unconscious when I’d frozen Annar, that’s how he’s returned to us.

  It doesn’t faze Kellan, though. He simply touches his mentor’s head and wills him to feel lucid and relatively pain free. It takes a minute or so, but Zthane eventually opens his dilated eyes. Confusion, then anger, fills them as Kellan helps him sit up. “Why is Lilywhite out here? Orders were to take her to one of the panic rooms below the building!”

  “I tried,” Kellan says, squatting down next to the Elemental. “But she decided to do something else.”

  “Chloe, don’t you know how dangerous it is out here?” Zthane asks, rubbing at his heavily bruised forehead. “Good gods, girl, are you trying to get yourself killed?”

  “Uh,” I say, looking around. “Are you referring to you or Kellan doing the killing?”

  Zthane then has a look around himself, mouth open so wide that I’m sure I could see his tonsils if I looked. And then Kellan explains to him what’s happened, and the anger in his eyes fades to begrudging appreciation.

  I’m overruled again when it comes time to wake up the next person. Zthane insists on another Goblin named Sjharn Thunderbridge, the Guard’s best Shaman. He’s huddled over another fallen Guard across the plaza, and Zthane reasons that if we’re going to wake up so many injured people, we might as well get them into fighting condition before asking them to do anything, plenty of time or no.

  After Sjharn finally comes Karl, which makes me feel a bit better. His arm looks worse upon inspection; in fact, if I were a betting woman, I’d say every bone had been broken. It takes Sjharn a long time to fix all the bones, and Kellan has to help by upping Karl’s endorphin levels until he’s nearly drugged out of his mind. Karl is giggling like a schoolgirl while rambling on about things I can’t even begin to understand. During this process, Zthane goes over the plan with us. Karl will work on the hole while we wake up the rest of the Guard. Then I’m to solidify the ground, making it impenetrable. Iolani will create a lid of sorts, which I’m to also make permanent. And then I’m to will it so nothing but a Creator can ever open this patch of land again.

  “Best to keep your enemies close,” Zthane is saying. “Will be much easier on us if we always know where they are.”

  I’m exhausted by the time Kellan and I wake up the thirty Guards around the plaza, not including the ones with Jonah. Everyone has already insisted that we do them last—I think, especially with the way a now-lucid Karl is watching me, that they’re all worried I won’t be able to focus if I have to watch Jonah go through a painful healing process.

  They’re probably right. I can barely focus as it is, wondering how he’s doing. And that’s ridiculous, really, because I know nothing can happen to him as long as he’s not moving. But it feels wrong to have him like that, even more wrong to know it’s me who has taken life away from him, even if it’s only in a temporary stasis.

  Karl pounds away at the hole after I will the ground below us to react to his fist, shaping it in ways I didn’t know was possible for a Quake. Now that he has the time, he’s able to smooth the crack until it’s roughly circular, rather than a jagged edge. He makes it deep by extending certain fingers during each of his fist poundings—so subtle and nuanced that it’s really a marvel to watch. During this time, I sit on a partially broken bench and observe him and Iolani, who is mixing the rock with magma she’s moving and pulling upward, while the rest of the Guards discuss the situation.

  This part of Annar is devastated. The other Creator will be asked, apparently kicking and screaming, to come and rebuild before the week is out. When I offer to do it myself, I’m told no—not that they don’t trust me, but that sometimes things like this take a seasoned, Ascended Creator, instead of a wild card who flies off the handle and freezes time and whatnot.

  Well, they didn’t actually say that last part, but I know it’s what they’re thinking.

  Once the hole meets Karl’s standards, I’m called over to tighten and make the walls permanent. I throw a bit of class to the joint, making the surrounding walls reflective so it doesn’t seem so oppressive once sealed.

  “You know,” Iolani says, amused, “they won’t have any light down there to throw reflections off of.”

  I dust my knees off. “It’s the thought that counts.”

  Jump-starting the tornadoes already hanging in the sky is a bit tricky, especially since I keep remembering how it felt to actually be in one of them. I end up creating little balls of my willed thoughts to hand over to Raul to toss into his winds. He has no fear of one-hundred-and-fifty-mile-per-hour winds, so I let him deal with them.

  Rustling up the Elders takes an excruciatingly long time. Raul is the only Cyclone around, and since the other Elementals deal more with other weather aspects, they are not much use. Like a cowboy, he uses his twisters to rope and herd the Elders toward the hole. He goes after one at a time, making sure it’s safely ensconced before heading out toward another. I’m not allowed to go with him when he goes to fetch the two hovering over Jonah, but Kellan is, and I know—as pissed as he is at his brother—he’ll never let anything happen to Jonah. Even still, I find it hard to breathe until those last two Elders are in the hole and I’ve been promised that everything is exactly as I left it in that alley.

  Iolani uses more lava to create a thick lid to the hole. It amazes me how, in the face of such heat, she doesn’t manage to sweat one single drop. I’m fifty feet away and ready to pass out from the extreme temperatures, especially since there are no more winds to move the stifling, thick air. The two Blazes stand next to her, also apparently impervious to such high temperatures. Their arms, I’d noticed, are covered in bumpy, distorted scars, making me wonder if they began playing with matches at a very early age.

  Once the lava lid is finished, I’m called back over to make it permanent. During this process, Iolani gets more lava to fill the rest of the cracks in the streets around us. While not pretty, it’s at least safe now to walk without fear of dropping dozens of feet down.

  And then, just when I’m about to go crazy that we’re not already with Jonah, Zthane tells us, “I’m afraid to tell you all that this isn’t all of them.”

  “Who’d I miss?” Raul demands. “We scoured the entire city.”

  “You misunderstand,” Zthane says. “You did get all in Annar. But shortly before I got knocked out, I got a call from the Dwarven plane. There was a sighting of Elders there. It appears they split up to attack two spots at once.”

  “Fantastic,” Karl mutters. “Do you know if any were captured there?”

  “No,” Zthane says. “I’m afraid cell phones don’t work in Chloe’s no-time zone. But, I’m doubting it. In fact, after today, I’m doubting any of our tactics. It appears most of our skills don’t seem to work on them too well. We know that Emotionals, Electrics, and a Creator are effective. The rest of us unfortunately are flying blind when it comes to controlling them.”

  This is not what any of us want to hear.

  It isn’t an easy thing to listen to a Shaman tick off the things wrong with the person you love. It could be worse, I’m told, a broken leg is nothing. Sjharn claims he fix
es those all the time. The Guard goes off and gets legs messed up on missions frequently. But it’s the head injury that has me freaked out. The Elders managed to crack Jonah’s skull, and there is significant swelling of the brain.

  I can create a city on the turn of a dime, I can destroy it with the blink of an eye, but I cannot do anything to help fix Jonah. All I can do is sit nearby and watch and wait and remind myself that I need to breathe, because when he wakes up, and I know he will, he’ll need me.

  So this is what I do while he lies in a bed in yet another safe house. I hold his hand, stroke his hair, and talk to him as if nothing’s wrong. And I wait when waiting is not easy.

  Chapter 40

  In the past day, I’ve gotten used to the sounds of different knocks on the door. Lizzie’s are soft, fingernails against wood. Meg’s come in short bursts, like flits of unrestrained chunks of excitement. Alex’s are measured and come in threes, Iolani’s a shave and a haircut. Karl doesn’t knock—his fist would shake the entire building—so he bellows from outside the door. Kellan simply enters whenever he wants. And when he comes, it’s not to talk to me—never to me. He checks on his brother, and then leaves.

  Lizzie’s latest round of soft tapping comes nearly twenty-four hours after Sjharn brought Jonah here. “Cora’s awake,” she informs me. “I just talked to her on the phone.”

  A set of weights rise off of my shoulders.

  “I’m going to go over to the hospital to see her,” Lizzie continues. “Meg and Alex, too. We were wondering if you wanted to come with.”

  I hate the thought of being that girl, the one who, when she gets a boyfriend, disappears from her friends’ lives. I don’t think I’m that girl, but I can see how it’ll be interpreted as such when I say I don’t believe it’s a good idea if I leave just yet.

  I know he’ll wake up. Sjharn says he has no worries about Jonah right now. Jonah will wake up, and he’ll be fine, albeit tired and possibly prone to headaches for a few days. But I want to be here when he does; I want to be the first person he sees. I want him to know he’s not alone, that I’m not leaving. We’ve spent far too much time apart as it is.

  Lizzie accepts this, and is kind enough not to voice any judgments she may have about my clinginess. I ask her to give Cora my love and tell her that I’m so, so glad she’s safe.

  I’ll save my apologies for when I see her.

  The Cousins leave, and eventually, so do Karl and Kellan. They’re off to some kind of Guard meeting. Now that Annar’s shields have been reinforced and the other Creator has gone round to solidify them (based on what I’d done in California—apparently he’d never thought to do such a thing before), no one seems to think we need babysitting.

  My mother calls a little while later, to tell me she and my dad are going back to the Human plane. I wait for her to mention the attack, so when she doesn’t, I am hurt enough that I bring it up.

  “Yes, well,” she says, sounding bored, “everything turned out for the best, didn’t it?”

  What the hell? I look at the receiver as if it’s alien technology. I’m done with her lack of caring. “I could’ve been killed! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

  “Of course it does. But, Chloe, you’re alive and well. The Guard did their job and protected you.”

  “Is that what you’ve heard?” I ask incredulously.

  “Is it a lie?”

  I think of all the times she’s lectured me about needing to fulfill my duties, to live up to expectations and to make the family proud. I may’ve broken rank, gone rogue with the whole time-freezing bit, but it ended up being the right thing to do. A number of Elders are now safely secured under Guard supervision. Nobody died, and thanks to being petrified in the midst of injuries, everyone had ample time to be taken care of by Shamans before anything too serious took hold. I don’t want to toot my own horn, but this is pretty much thanks to me.

  But I know better. I simply wish her and my father a safe journey and say, not hesitantly but almost wistfully, that I hope to see them soon.

  Jonah’s father calls, too; it’s the first time since the party earlier in the fall that I’ve spoken to him. His call is also brief—he asks how Jonah is doing, but needs no details, as he’s been apprised on the situation. He doesn’t ask why I’m with Jonah, or why I’m the one answering the phone. He doesn’t ask where Kellan is. In fact, he doesn’t ask much at all—just how Jonah is. When I answer the question, he mumbles something along the lines of, “Good. Well, give him my regards,” and then clicks off the line.

  The one bright call comes from the Seer Astrid Lotus, who I now know is Jonah’s surrogate mother. She spends nearly ten minutes with me on the phone, both asking questions and giving me information she’s learned from the Shaman. She is kind. Comforting. Before she hangs up, she tells me, “I’m so glad you’re there with my boy, Chloe.”

  It’s sweet enough to bring tears to my eyes. Maybe Jonah’s right. Maybe there are Magicals out there who make excellent parents, even if they come in the form of surrogate mothers.

  “I have the worst headache.”

  He’s awake! I nearly throw down the book I’ve been reading and turn to face Jonah. He’s rubbing at his forehead, adorably confused and tired. I lean in, saying, “Let me kiss that and make it better. Any other pains?”

  There aren’t, which relieves me. Not that I didn’t trust Sjharn, who everyone claims is a miracle worker, but I needed to hear it from Jonah. We talk about what happened—I don’t gloss over anything, because I’ve decided that, being tired of always being kept in the dark, I want us to have the truth always, even if it’s tough at times to hear.

  Which I’m assuming is the case for him when I lecture for a good five minutes on how he’s never allowed to pull such a stunt again. He merely laughs at this, unbothered by my growling, and subdues me quickly by yanking me back down in bed so we can lie together.

  “You can’t do this again,” I whisper against his neck. “You can’t leave me again.”

  “I didn’t leave you. I was protecting you. There’s a difference.”

  “Why you, though? With all the Guard around, why did you have to go out there?”

  “Because I love you, and I’ll always do everything I can to make sure you stay safe.”

  He’s smooth, but I’m not swayed. “Getting yourself killed is not a good way to keep me safe,” I mutter. “That would, in fact, probably cause me to blow up a number of buildings.”

  “I’m sorry for worrying you,” he says sincerely. “Forgive me?”

  When he says it like that, there’s no way I can deny him anything.

  “So, I have a question for you.”

  Jonah opens his eyes and squints up at me. We’re out on the couch, watching a movie. The apartment is empty—the Cousins have gone back to the Human plane, Kellan is out with Guard friends, and Karl is having dinner with his wife. “I’m not paying attention to the movie, so if you’re wondering about the plotline, you’re out of luck.”

  His head in on my lap and I am running my fingers through his silky hair. “Are you able to talk to me in my mind?”

  He moves his head so my fingers can reach new pieces of hair to play with. “No.”

  “But you talk to your brother like that.”

  “Yes.”

  Even though I’d suspected this, I’m still surprised to get an actual confirmation. For one thing, I’ve never heard of anyone, Magical or not, being able to do this. Secondly, when we surge, only memories and the feelings associated with them are accessible, never interactive language. Still, wondering about how much the two of them are able to communicate with one another, and potentially about me, has been gnawing at me ever since their bizarre silent exchange before school a few days before.

  “So,” I say, “all those times you two are silent with each other, you’re talking?”

  “Not always. Sometimes it’s just silence.”

  “Does he have to be in the room?”

  Jonah is
unbothered by my questions. “No.”

  “Could you talk to him now?”

  “If I had something to say,” he admits, moving his head again.

  “How?”

  “I don’t know. We’ve always been able to do it. It’s a twin thing, I guess.”

  I think about this as he relaxes against me once more. Right before he’s on the verge of sleep, I say, “Explain it to me. Does this mean that whatever you say or do, he automatically knows about it?”

  Jonah must sense my uneasiness, because he sits up. “No, of course not.”

  Even the little voice in my mind is curious about all this. “Then how does it work?”

  “Well, he and I are connected together in a lot of ways because we’re twins. We can surge, like normal Magicals. So obviously we can see each other’s memories and all that. We can talk by reaching out our minds to each other. And we can sense how the other person is feeling without having to be within a certain distance like Emotionals normally need to be.”

  “Can he hear what we’re saying right now?”

  “No.” His eyes search my face. “Chloe, why are you so troubled about this?”

  “It’s bad enough that you can read me like a book at all times,” I say quietly. “It’s another thing if someone who isn’t even in the room can do it, too. And . . . it freaks me out to think that you two might’ve been talking about me, or worse, fighting when I had no idea.”

  He takes my hands in his. “Kellan would be able to hear what’s going on if I specifically let him. But that’s not going on right now. He has no idea what we’re talking about, I swear.”

  “Does he know what you’re feeling?”

  “You mean right now?”

  I nod.

  “Probably, but I doubt he’s paying attention.”

  “Do you know what he’s feeling?”

  “Yes, but only because you asked me to focus.”

  I mull this over, uncomfortable. “Can he tell when we’re . . . you know . . . making out? Or . . . merging?” My face burns.

 

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